


Pit of Despair, Peak of hope

by Youremyalways



Series: I Won’t Let You Die [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: 6x09, Bellarke, F/M, Fighting pit, Season 6 Episode 9, mindspace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 08:29:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19422265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Youremyalways/pseuds/Youremyalways
Summary: “She’d been Josephine for so long that seeing her like this- like herself- physically pained him. His focus had been so distracted and diluted with trying to stop Jospehine and building a compound that he didn’t even realize how much he just… missed her.And dammit, he missed her.He missed her with every bone in his body.”





	Pit of Despair, Peak of hope

**Author's Note:**

> Part 2 of the “I Won’t Let You Die” series.
> 
> This takes place in Clarke’s mindspace.
> 
> Enjoy, xoxo

The first thing he recognized when he woke up was the familiar cold, hard pressure of concrete digging into the back of his skull and tip of his tailbone. His back ached against the surface, the curve of his spine forced to contort unnaturally to meet its flatness. He knitted his eyebrows as confusion flooded him. Where the hell was he?

Bellamy attempted to take a deep breath, but immediately choked on the staleness of the oxygen, the musty smell in the air making his eyes water. His eyes flew open by no choice of his as he coughed on the air, thrashing to his side to open his airway. Panic rose like bile in the back of his throat when he found himself unable to turn fully. Bellamy quickly recognized the feeling of hard metal digging into his tan skin, and turned his head to see that his right wrist was tied tightly to a post connected to a concrete wall, the chain thick and unmoving despite every tug he tested it with. 

“Shit.” He mumbled to himself, trying not to wince as he took another breath and pulled his upper body up so he could sit and really assess the situation.

He blinked a few times to clear the haziness from his vision, twirling his head around to absorb his surroundings. His heart skidded to a halt the second he did that, however. 

It didn’t take more than a single glance for him to realize that he was in the fighting pit. If it wasn’t the bloodstained concrete, raw oxygen, or wire fences, it was the chain holding him back. He didn’t understand. If he was in Clarke’s mind then why was he… 

“Bellamy?”

And he thought his heart had already stopped.

The sound of her voice-  _ her _ voice- made him stumble backwards on the floor. It slammed into him with so much force he lost his breath to the pit in his stomach. On the sheer power of relief and shock alone, he jumped to his feet so fast it made him dizzy. Once he was up, he could barely bring his feet to move from where they were, could barely bring his body to step an inch forward. There was nothing in the world that mattered anymore- nothing except the fact that Clarke was here, alive. He felt a sob rise in the back of his throat, scratching at his dry mouth and threatening to break free. 

Bellamy hadn’t heard that voice in so long, and upon hearing it once again, he physically felt the hole in his stomach become less of an abyss.

He whipped around so fast he practically gave himself whiplash, eyes tearing up when they landed on the cloud of blonde hair in the center of the fighting pit. 

She stood there, arms hanging limp by her sides. Her fingers were clenched in balls, revealing the tension in her veins. Bellamy’s eyes easily followed the stress up from her fists to the straight line of her shoulders to the subliminal wrinkles between her brows. 

It was so inarguably Clarke. 

She’d been Josephine for so long that seeing her like this- like herself- physically pained him. His focus had been so distracted and diluted with trying to stop Jospehine and building a compound that he didn’t even realize how much he just… missed her. 

And dammit, he missed her. 

He missed her with every bone in his body. 

Josephine could talk like her, act like her, even wear her body- but she could never mimic the tremendous weight that rested on Clarke’s shoulders. 

He found himself being pulled towards her like they were magnetic, the attractive force strong and unstoppable. But the chain wrapped around his wrist prohibited his movement and he swore under his breath at the restriction. 

“Not you.” Came from Clarke’s mouth, a dreadful and mournful choke.

Bellamy furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. His wanting and relieved eyes scanned over her own blues, finding them full of very different emotions: Panic, fear, and… guilt?

“Clarke?” He asked, tilting his head to the side and ignoring the stinging in his eyes.

“Please, not you too.” She begged, raising her hands to her hair and threading them through her blonde locks, tears falling down her cheeks, “Anyone but you.” 

“I don’t understand.” He didn’t even really mean to say out loud.

“I…” She started to talk, but he watched the words get stuck in her throat as her teary eyes looked over the pit, studying every speck of blood on the bare floor, “Oh God.”

Bellamy didn’t know what the hell was going on, or why they were here of all places, but they needed to move quickly.

“Clarke, we need to talk.” He cut the tension, pulling once again on his chains and groaning when they still failed to budge.

Her eyes appeared to fill even more with panic, lip quivering slightly, “I know.” 

Bellamy shot his head back a little at the defeated and knowing tone in her voice when she spoke those words. His heart rate skyrocketed. Could she see through Josephine all this time? 

“You do?” He asked, trying to keep his shock minimum.

She took a small step towards him, crossing her arms over her chest as she sighed, “Just get it over with.”

That only solidified his confusion.

“Clarke, what are you talking about?”

“I’m sorry, okay? I’m so sorry.” She cried, walking closer to him.

“For this?” He asked, confused, as he gestured with his unrestrained hand to the fighting pit.

When she nodded hesitantly, he shook his head softly, assuring, “You already apologized, I forgave you.” 

She didn’t respond, but confusion and doubt grew like dark clouds over her irises. It was almost like she expected him to take back his apology. 

“I missed you.” He settled on, hoping his face conveyed the genuine relief he was feeling.

She shook her head slowly at first, but the movement grew more frantic over time, “No… you’re just a figment of my imagination. You’re not him. It’s not him.” 

He wasn’t sure who she was trying to convince.

“I’m really here.” Bellamy explained, “You are alive, Clarke, but your body is dying. We don’t have a lot of time. Gabriel got me into your mindspace, which is where we both are now. I need to get you back, and I need you to help me do that, but first… I need you to believe me.” 

He watched with desperation as the emotions passed over her face in stages.

Denial.

Shock.

Fear.

Those first three made his heart race. Bellamy had no idea what Clarke had faced in her mindspace, but given the way she initially reacted to him… it wasn’t good. He would have no right to be surprised if she shut him out and refused to believe him. However, just as he was getting ready to explain some more, perhaps in a different way, he saw something else flash across her face.

Hope.

His breaths came out fast and even, anticipation building.

“You got my message?”

Bellamy felt the relief slam into him with the grace of a freaking planet. He nodded eagerly, the tears limiting his voice as well as his vision.

She ran the rest of the distance between them and wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him tightly to her chest. Bellamy stumbled back a few inches with the force of her, but nonetheless held her back as firmly as he could with only one free hand, soothing his palm over her back.

“I’m so glad you’re okay.” He whispered into her hair, closing his eyes and breathing her in.

“You too,” Clarke pulled away, laughing wetly, “Is everyone else alright? Madi?”

He nodded quickly, “Some stuff went down right before I went into the woods with Josephine. As far as I know everyone is alive. Madi is okay, ” Bellamy sighed and smiled sadly, “just worried about her mom.” 

Something dark passed over Clarke’s eyes, and Bellamy swallowed down the tension rolling through his body. 

“So, she’s really doing it? She’s… in my body.” Clarke stated more than asked, disgust in her voice.

“Yeah,” He didn’t sugarcoat it, “But not much longer.”

“What’s your plan?” 

Bellamy explained, “I was hoping you could help me with that bit. Gabriel is going to take the chip out of your head soon, but we need your help on this end. It won’t work if you both aren’t in your own mindspaces when he takes it out. Josephine isn’t about to help us figure that out, and no doubt she’s going to try to stop this. Do you know how to keep her on her side?” 

Clarke seemed to be thinking for a solid few seconds, her gaze downcast and distracted.

“She needs to be awake,” Clarke nodded, the lightbulb going off, “When she’s conscious she can’t come to my side.” 

“Okay,” Bellamy nodded, “That makes things a little bit more difficult, but it’s doable. Thank you.” 

Clarke nodded, keeping her eyes low. He saw the pain in her features; the remorse and the self loathing. 

Bellamy then looked around the fighting pit, lifting his free hand and using it to gesture to the rooms entirety, speaking with certainty, “I did forgive you for this, by the way.” 

“Bellam-”

“I did.”

She sighed and slid her eyes up to stare directly into his own, the prolonged contact making the air in the room weigh ten times more than it did before. She fell a little to the side to lean her body against the wall next to her. As he watched over the woman in front of him, Bellamy knew he would do anything to save her. He needed her. He wanted to have her again, to just be in her presence. The weight of the world is lighter when they are both carrying it.

Bellamy traced his eyes over her face, which was lighter somehow, more eased. It was so different than Josephine. Bellamy truly didn’t understand how he and the others ever fell for Josephine’s facade. The two were so different. 

All he knew was that he never wanted to have to distinguish again.

“I won’t let you die,” He announced without anymore thought, looking her in the eyes and using every fiber of his being to keep his words from shaking, “I promise.”

He meant it with every bone in his body.

Her eyes fell closed and squeezed shut, like she was trying to hold back her emotions. A single tear fell down one of her cheeks, regardless.

“Okay,” She whispered, “but I need you to promise me something.” 

“Anything.”

Clarke approached him, reaching out to take his left hand into both of hers, squeezing it gently. 

“If I don’t make it,” She started, voice heavy and strained, “don’t blame anyone but Josephine and Russel.”

“You’re not dying.” Bellamy started immediately, his expression resolute. 

“Bellamy, if-”

“You’re not!” He yelled, eyes crazed, “Clarke I swear, I’m going to save you this time.”

And he regretted those last two words, because the second they came out of his mouth, her entire demeanor changed. It was practically comedic how fast her shoulders fell.

“Is that what this is about?” She sighed, “Redemption for primefaya? Bellamy, that was the only choice, I never blamed you for that. You don’t have anything to make up for.” 

“Clarke, no.” He assured, voice low, “This isn’t about redemption. This is about me needing you to survive. I need you. I can’t do any of this without you.” 

“You can, and you have.” She shrugged, a sad smile on her lips.

“Well, I don’t want to,” Bellamy shook his head, running his thumb over her knuckles, “I don’t want to live without you.” 

Clarke just furrowed her eyebrows, looking up at him with so many questions on the tip of her tongue, hanging by the thinnest threads. But, as she trained herself to do, she swallowed them all down.

“Regardless of what you want, I need you to know that none of this- not a fragment of it- is your fault. Okay?” Clarke raised her eyebrows, “Just in case.” 

He understood why she was doing this. He had the same tendency to over exaggerate the blame placed on himself as she did. But that didn’t mean he liked it.

He shook his head, “Since when do we ever do things just in case?”

“Since I didn’t say anything before this whole thing happened…” Clarke blurted out, “and I regretted it.” 

Bellamy didn’t respond right away, the weight of those words falling like raindrops over his body.

“Please.” She begged, voice urgent and firm.

“Fine.”

It hurt him to say it. It killed him to feel it.

It felt very, very wrong to make decisions ‘in case’ Clarke died. It was admitting that it was a possibility, and Bellamy didn’t want to accept that- at all.

“We don’t have much time. I’ll be waking up soon.” Bellamy said quietly, eyes downcast.

Guilt and remorse filled his chest. There wasn’t a cell in his body that wanted to leave that room.

“I’ll do everything I can to keep her on her side.”

“I’ll keep her awake.”

Clarke nodded, tears filling her eyes, “Okay, then.”

He nodded, his own eyes watering.

In that moment he felt his right wrist fall limp, the restraint previously on it completely evaporating. His gaze fell to the new sensation, and widened immediately when they absorbed the image of his wrist fading away, the fog creeping up his arm slowly but surely.

He was waking up.

“No…” He muttered, a fearful breath escaping his lips.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Clarke nodded, swallowing down every emotion in her body and putting on a brave face, “I believe in us. We can do this.”

She squeezed his hand and gave him a reassuring smile.

“I will see you again.” He nodded, a tear cutting down his cheek as even more of him faded away.

“And Bellamy, I-”

His eyes shot open.

“Are we a-go?” Gabriel’s face hung above his, eyes wide and expectant.

Bellamy sighed and sat up onto his forearms, squinting at the bright lights shining in his face. Gabriel didn’t hear him when he looked down with a smirk and mumbled,

“We never were good at timing, were we?” 


End file.
